RWBY: The Order of the Ouroboros
by Guy Fawkes522
Summary: After the Battle of Haven, an ally of Qrow's comes to him with claims of a way to defeat their enemy once and for all. Meanwhile, Winter Schnee makes a deal with an enigmatic group known as the Order. Loyalties will be tested, conspiracies will be revealed, the bonds of family will tear at the love of friends, and in the end, all may be lost already. Crossover with the Order: 1886.
1. Prologue

A/N: I own nothing but plot and characters of my own creation. I will do my best to adhere to Monty's Color Naming Rule but please forgive me if I am unable to. Enjoy.

RWBY: The Order of the Ouroboros

Prologue

" _ **We are not enemies, but friends.**_

 _ **We must not be enemies.**_

 _ **Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection.**_

 _ **The mystic chords of memory will yet swell, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature."**_

 _ **-Abraham Lincoln**_

She was silent, deadly, and beautiful to behold.

She passed through dim-lit halls like a shadow, unseen by guards, who even if they weren't focused on the night's festivities, would fail to notice anything peculiar. Down in the Grand Hall, a celebration was being held in honor of the newest appointment to the Council. It was the perfect opportunity to infiltrate the palace grounds and find the Scroll, but there was an ulterior motive.

She needed answers; she needed to know why.

Why was she pursued by this man?

What would he gain by bringing her here?

Those questions haunted her as she peered around a corner into a long hallway and waited. The hallway was deathly still, the only sound that could be heard was the sound of the thunderstorm outside. After a few moments, the lights went out, plunging the wing into darkness. She had to move quickly; the power outage would only last a few minutes.

She looked around the corridor for a moment, cautious of any onlookers or witnesses. After finding the area clear, she knelt before the door, pushing strands of raven hair out of her eyes and got to work. Deft fingers worked the tumblers easily, the darkness not hindering her in the slightest, and soon she heard the telltale click of the door being unlocked. She slowly opened the door, every creak of the hinges caused her to wince, fearing each one would lead the guards to discover her. She peered inside, cautious of any security device that could still be operational.

Releasing the breath she didn't realize she was holding, she entered the expansive room, locking the door behind her; and made her way to the large painting on the far side of the wall, just to the left of the ornate desk.

The painting itself was a depiction of a woman in a white gown with amber-colored hair tying a red sash around a mounted knight's arm as he departs through the portcullis of a castle.

A lady's favor.

She had read about the age-old custom many times; a lady would gift a knight she favors a token, often an article of clothing, that he carries on to the battlefield. The knight would have promised his lady that he will return the trinket when he returns.

It was not only a way of saying that he will return from battle alive and they will be reunited but also a way of saying 'I love you' without saying it.

She shook her head to free her mind from these thoughts, knowing that she had lingered for far too long.

She found the hidden switch on the lower right-hand corner of the frame, just as the knight had told her. The painting gave way and swung like a door, revealing a large wall-safe. She then began to place Burn Dust infused putty in the door gap. She had been warned that it would burn rather than explode, so she had to use just the right amount: too much, and it would burn through the safe destroying the Scroll and any other items that could be of use; not enough, and the safe obviously won't open.

Just as she was about to ignite putty, she heard the door being unlocked from the outside. Thinking quickly, she replaced the painting back into its original position, then ran to the other side of the room. Every footfall sounded so loud to her; she was certain that she had been caught. She almost wished that she had taken her friend's advice and gone barefoot. Just as the door was unlocked, she dove to the floor crawled underneath the antique sofa by the door. The carpet burned her exposed skin but she ignored it, trying to be as small and as quiet as possible.

The door slowly opened but it hid the new arrival from her view. She heard the sound of the light switch being tried a few times, then a sigh of exasperation when the room failed to illuminate. She heard his footfalls on the carpet as he walked through the room despite the darkness and finally, she had a glimpse of her pursuer. The one who hunted her was a man with slicked-back, gray hair.

An old man.

No.

 _The_ Old Man.

It didn't matter this man's age, he hunted her and she was going to find out why.

Yet there was something familiar about him.

She couldn't fathom why, but that dark-blue uniform and golden ouroboros on his left shoulder made her think back to her childhood.

He crossed the other side of the room, towards the desk. Her heart beat like a drum with each step the Old Man took. Had he seen something out of place? Did he know someone was in here?

She had to move fast; she needed answers.

The Old Man stopped at the side of the desk; opposite the painting and relief flowed through her. Cautiously, though, she stopped half-way from her target and held her breath, waiting to see what he would do next. He pressed against a panel on the wall and a hidden compartment opened up and she had to wonder how many secrets did this office hold? She watched as he reached into the compartment and withdraw a liquor bottle; it was a liquor cabinet.

The Old Man inspected the bottle, wondering if it was fitting for the occasion and considered a bottle of sherry when he felt cold steel against his back. "Hands up," a voice said behind him. Realizing that the steel was, in fact, a pistol, he did as he was told and raised his hands, the bottle still clenched in his right hand. "I have questions for you." Her voice sounded muffled as if she had a piece of fabric covering her mouth (a scarf, in fact, borrowed from a friend) but he was able to discern a few traits.

'Young,' he noted. 'Feminine.'

"Of course," he said. "But first I must congratulate you for making it this far."

'That voice!' she thought, eyes widening. 'It can't be...'

Suddenly her hand began to shake as she realized who this person was, "You're shaking," he said. She gripped her wrist with her free hand, trying to keep the tremors at bay.

"Is this the first time you've done this?"

'No,' she thought, it wasn't supposed to be like this.

This man was supposed to be her enemy.

Taking advantage of her distracted state, the Old Man turned and swung the bottle down like a club. Recovering just in time, she raised her arm to protect herself; the bottle shattered, dousing her in champagne but due to her Aura, remaining unharmed. That did not deter the Old Man, who came at her with the jagged remains of the bottle, using it as a shiv.

His onslaught was vicious, displaying agility that even young men would envy. His movements were far from wild or erratic, however, showing that this man had considerable skill in the ways of combat. In the end, all she could do was back peddle and wait for an opening. It came soon enough when a backhand slash just barely missed her and she was able to knock the bottle out of his hand with a roundhouse kick.

With this momentary lapse in combat, she pulled the scarf free. "Stop! It's me! B-" was all she had time to say before she was seized by the throat, lifted off her feet and slammed into a nearby wall, her weapon falling uselessly to the floor. Before she could even sink to the floor, he was upon her, lifting her off the floor, and pressing his thumbs against her windpipe.

She thrashed about against his grip and tried to tear his hands away from her throat but all was in vain as he proved to be too strong. As her vision began to fade, she could still make out the features of her unfortunate adversary: his teeth were bare beneath his long beard and his blue eyes held fire in them. She had a premonition of those same eyes welling up with tears when he discovers the truth and for that, she felt remorse. If only they had known, all of this could have been avoided.

As the world began to go black, her struggles became weaker and weaker. She began to silently make her goodbyes and hoped her family would not blame him for what had transpired when suddenly she was hit with a blinding light and then she was released from the Old Man's grip. As he had entered the room, the Old Man had neglected to return the light switch to the 'off' position, so when the power was restored, the lights came on and that is all that saves her. She fell to the floor in a heap, hand on her throat, coughing and trying to take in as much air as she could.

After a few deep breaths, her sight became clear again, and as she looked up at the Old Man, she saw the look of horror on his face that her vision paled in comparison to. He was completely aghast by what he had done; what he had nearly done, and yet he still couldn't quite believe what had just happened. He looked down at his shaking hands, then back at her; time seemed to come to a halt as the pair just stared at one another, neither one daring to make a sound. Finally, the Old Man found his voice…

"Blake?"

It was barely above a whisper but she heard it clear as day. She looked up at him with forgiving eyes as tears rolled down her cheeks. She uttered a single word before all went dark…

"Grandpa."


	2. Ch 1 The Knights of Old

Ch. 1 The Knights of Old

 _ **My good blade carves the casques of men,**_

 _ **My tough lance thrusteth sure,**_

 _ **My strength is as the strength of ten**_

 _ **Because my heart is pure.**_

 _ **-Alfred Tennyson**_

The Council Palace of the Kingdom of Atlas has existed since the founding of the kingdom, but within its walls is a relic that has existed since before the founding of the previous kingdom, Mantle. The relic sits within the innermost sanctum of the Palace, within the Chamber of Peers and only the highest echelon of government and military officials have seen it, let alone touched it.

While high in the military, Winter Schnee is not among those that have ever laid eyes on the relic. In fact, this was the furthest she had ever come, standing outside those large, polished, oak doors, to even getting a glimpse of the relic. But that is not why she is here. She is here because her sister is missing and behind those closed doors may be the only person who can help her. With the borders closed, no one was getting in and no one was getting out without the Council's explicit permission.

While General James Ironwood, Headmaster of Atlas Academy, held two seats on the Council and was even sympathetic to her plight, he could not show special treatment. Many members of the Atlesian Military had family outside of Atlas, a great deal of them, high ranking officers or members of the Special Operatives Unit, like herself, and even they had to go through the proper channels.

"That would take too long," she had argued. Winter had stormed into Ironwood's office without notice and while she had immense respect for the General, the current situation proceeded military doctrine."She's been missing for a week and even if I get the Council's permission, it may be too late."

"The security of the state is paramount, Schnee," Ironwood had spoken is his usual calm demeanor. "Beacon has fallen and if _your_ report is accurate, Haven will be next." He then rose from his desk and made his way towards her. "We have to do everything in our power to make sure the same fate does not befall Atlas." He stopped in front of her, hands behind his back, and sighed heavily. "We cannot let our personal feelings jeopardize the safety of our people."

"But sir.." she began before being cut off by Ironwood placing a hand on her shoulder in an effort to comfort her. "I'm sorry, Winter, but I cannot help you." Winter turned away from the General, fist clenching at her side. He was right, the people came first but, dammit, she still couldn't abandon Weiss to her fate. Then Ironwood spoke again, "But I know someone who might be able to..."

And that is how she found herself standing outside the Chamber of Peers, waiting for hours just for those doors to open. Many of the palace guards had asked if she would like to take a seat on one of the benches by the door or come back at a later point in the day. All it took was an icy glare to send them scurrying away with hurried apologies.

Finally, in the late afternoon, the doors opened and councilors began shuffling out of the room, some discussing the outcome of the day's events while others headed off to other commitments. Immediately, Winter began to search for Ironwood's contact, when the contact found her. "Winter Schnee?" Winter turned towards the voice that had addressed her when she saw a woman with green eyes, auburn hair braided on opposite sides that joined together in a bun, and dressed in a formal uniform, approaching her.

The woman's uniform appeared to be military in nature but dark-blue, instead of the white of the standard Atlesian Military uniform, with a corset-like waistcoat, a pair of hard-leather vambraces, fingerless leather gloves, a short skirt and dark trousers combination with knee-high, leather boots. The uniform, itself, had an elegant design with embroiders set in gold, most notably on her long, flared coat and lace frill accents at the cuffs and collar.

She wore a leather combat harness with a holstered pistol under her left shoulder, a Scroll used by field operatives that were smaller, stronger and allowed for hands-free use was secured to the back of her right shoulder, and Winter could see the hilt of a long knife protruding from behind her back. At her right shoulder was a gold aiguillette to signify her rank and a white band on her left arm, with an intricate ouroboros stitched in gold. 'That must signify her unit,' thought Winter. But what that unit was, she did not know, nor did she understand the purpose of the high gorget at her throat. That is until she saw the scars reminiscent of claw marks going down her neck.

"You are Winter Schnee, are you not?"

"I am," Winter answered. "General Ironwood sent me."

The woman nodded, "I am Lady Igraine," she said, introducing herself with a curtsy.

"Knight Commander of the Order of Atlesian Knights."

Winter's eyes widened for a moment before returning the curtsy. 'The fabled Order of Knights,' she thought. She had heard of the Order, everyone in Atlas had; they were an organization that was formed in the early days of Mantle but had now passed into legend.

Throughout her career, Winter, as well as other military personnel, had seen glimpses of shadowy figures moving throughout battlefields and restricted areas all with impunity. Whenever she brought the matter to the attention of her superiors, she was met with the standard "classified" but now, questions were finally having answers.

"Will you join me for an afternoon tea?" Lady Igraine asked, breaking Winter out of her thoughts.

"I would prefer if we got to the topic at hand," she responded. "That is why I asked you to tea," said the Knight Commander. "I am not the one to give you what you seek; I am the one to help you get it."

"Now, if you would please, follow me," she continued. "I'm sure the Lord Chancellor is already waiting."

Winter hid her surprise expertly at the knowledge that she would be meeting the Lord Chancellor. While Atlas, like the other nations of Remnant, is referred to as a Kingdom, it is in fact ruled by a council, made up of high-ranking military officials.

The closest to a king in Atlas, however, is the Lord Chancellor, who is often the strongest voice in the council; but still, this does not mean that absolute power rests with him, he is subject to the whim of the council, same as the rest.

As Lady Igraine turned to lead Winter away, she could hear the doors begin to close. If she had cared to, she could have caught a glimpse of the relic itself; as well as much more. Instead, Winter made her way to follow the Knight Commander without so much as a second glance.

After leading her through the expansive halls of the palace, Igraine and Winter came to another oak door, this one, however, was a single door with a gold plate the read 'Gen. Augustus d'Argyll, Lord Chancellor' in black text.

Lady Igraine was about to knock on the door when a voice off to her side halted her. "Lady Igraine," it said. They turned and saw an old man with steel-blue eyes, slicked-back, gray hair parted to the left and a long, matching beard approaching them. He wore a ceremonial robe the same color as Igraine's uniform with similar gold designs, gold tassel securing it in place, and featured a gold ouroboros over the left breast.

A crest of three bendlets gules on argent was displayed over the right breast and on the steel gorget he wore. At its opening, Winter could see he was wearing a long, dark-blue military style jacket, matching trousers, a blue sash going across his chest, a red sash at his waist, a red ascot underneath his gorget and black shoes. His face was quite wrinkled yet he did not appear feeble or weak. On the contrary, the accumulation of small scars and prominent eyebrows gave his face a dignified look.

Lady Igraine turned to the old man and curtsied, "Lord Chancellor," she said before straitening up. "Your absence was noted by the council." He a gave her a stern look before saying, "I had other matters to attend to." He withdrew a key from his jacket before unlocking the door, opening it, then standing aside, silently inviting them in. "Are you referring to the reporters outside?" Igraine asked as she walked in.

He did not answer as he closed the door behind them and she knew that he was.

Over the last few years, the Lord Chancellor had pushed for legislation that called for reconciliation between Atlas and the Faunus of Menagerie. During the time of her predecessor, Sir Lucan, the Lord Chancellor paid the Faunus no mind, but now he was openly friendly to them, having travel to Menagerie on several occasions and even staying as a guest at the home of its chieftain, Ghira Belladonna.

She suspected that the loss of so many friends and loved ones has made him reevaluate the value life; that or he was spending too much time with Sir Perceval, the self-proclaimed 'lover of liberty'. His proposals were nothing so far as an official alliance, no such agreement existed between Atlas and any of the other kingdoms, but he did insist on an official trade agreement and the construction of Cross-Continental Transmit System or CCTS relay tower. Proposals such as these did not make him popular among the more conservative members of the government or populace (but very popular with reporters).

While many did not outright hate Faunus, they were wary of them, especially when news of the White Fang attack on Vale City and the fall of Beacon Academy. "The attack on Beacon was nothing short of a tragedy," he had said before the Council. "These assailants nothing more than fanatics but let us not forget of times past when Man and Faunus stood shoulder to shoulder during the Great War and help bring about its end and that the White Fang was formed..."

"...To improve relationships between Humans and Faunus," interrupted Councilor and Colonel Fredrick Dover, Commander of the Special Operatives Unit. "I do not believe this Council needs a lecture on the annals of history, Lord Chancellor."

"Rather it needs to take a stand against these blatant acts of terrorism," he continued.

There was a round of rapping fists on podiums in agreement along with some "here, here"s.

"Too long have we ignored this problem and now a city lies in ruins and countless lives lost. I say the time for deliberation is over and now is the time to take the fight to our enemies. Now is the time to crush the White Fang once and for all!"

Even more rapping and cheers.

After the Peers had settled down, the Lord Chancellor again spoke, "...And how do you intend to bring the fight to them?" he asked. "Do you know from whence they operate? Or even who leads them?"

"Perhaps the Lord Chancellor himself can indulge us," Colonel Dover suggested. "After all, have you not made several journeys to Menagerie over the years and had many conversations with its chieftain?"

"You are not insinuating that these atrocities are being orchestrated by Ghira Belladonna, are you?" the Lord Chancellor asked, his voice rising in hostility. "I consider him a friend and you dishonor not only him but yourself with the baseless accusations."

"If not orchestrated, then at the very least condoned," answered Councilor Ulysses Triton, Admiral of the Acheron fleet. "These White Fang attacks have gone on for years and Menagerie has often remained silent in these regards. If its chieftain does not support these actions then why does he not speak against them?"

"Because it would be speaking against one's own family," countered the Lord Chancellor. "Many join the White Fang despite objections from loved ones."

"Unfortunately that is not reason enough to explain his inaction," Colonel Dover stated. He then turned to address the assembly, "I move to call a vote to summon Ghira Belladonna, if necessary, by force, to this Council to answer for the crimes of the White Fang."

"We cannot bring formal charges against the leader of a foreign nation!" The voice came from General Ironwood and the Lord Chancellor was grateful to have at least one friend in the Chamber. "It would be seen, not just by the Faunus, but by the other Kingdoms, as an act of war."

"Menagerie is not recognized as a foreign nation," Admiral Triton stated. "But as a collective of small settlements."

"I doubt that explanation will placate the other Kingdoms," said Councilor Lucy Lamp, Surgeon General of the Medical Corps.

"Perhaps there is a compromise," said Judge Advocate General Solomon Crown, standing to his full, imposing height. "We _invite_ the chieftain to stand before this Council and explain his stance on the White Fang. If he is the person the Lord Chancellor says he is, then surely he will condemn these actions openly."

"I second the motion," said General Forest Groves, head of Research and Development.

"And what makes you think he will accept this invitation?" Colonel Dover asked. "Perhaps if the invitation comes from the Lord Chancellor himself, he will," answered General Crown.

All eyes turned to the Lord Chancellor; he stood there for a moment, feeling as if the weight of the world had been placed on his shoulders before he sighed heavily, "Very well," he said. "I shall send a formal invitation to Chieftain Belladonna to speak before this Council and explain his position."

"This Council is dismissed."

It had been more than a month since he had sent the letter and still, no reply had come.

With the CCTS down the only means of communications between continents is through correspondence.

For days now, the Lord Chancellor had anxiously waited for a reply from his friend, but so far there had been no reply. With each passing day, he grew more and more anxious, fearing that the Council would lose patience and bring Ghira by force before the assembly. When Concord, his faithful retainer, wheeled in a cart with their tea, the Lord Chancellor had looked at him, almost hopefully. The younger man just shook his head sadly, causing the Lord Chancellor to sigh in exasperation and hide his face in his hand.

"Shall I serve, sir?" Concord asked. Regaining his composure, the Lord Chancellor looked at him for a moment and said, "No, Concord, I'll do it. Continue with your other duties."

"Very good, sir," he said with a bow. He then turned to Winter and Lady Igraine bowed with a respectful "Ladies" before leaving the room. The Lord Chancellor then stood and began serving. He first poured hot tea into three cups and began to prepare them, "Ms. Schnee how do you take yours?" he asked. "Cream and two sugars, please," Winter answered. In truth, she did not want the refreshment but she felt that being polite would better her chances of receiving aid. He nodded while adding the ingredients then began prepping the next one.

He handed each of the two women a cup on a saucer with a spoon.

"Ms. Schnee," he said, handing her cup.

"Igraine, one sugar, no cream," he said handing her a cup.

They both thanked him and then began stirring while he prepared his own. He sat down at his desk, tea to the side, then placed his hands in front of himself in a loose fist.

"Now," he said. "What is it you ask of me..."

::

The Four Winds Bar sits in the lower regions of the City of Mistral. Despite this, it is still known as a reputable tavern, with good service and top-shelf liquor at a reasonable price.

That mattered little to Qrow Branwen, however.

After the battle at Haven and scouring the surrounding area for Adam Taurus, Qrow needed a rest and a drink, and the Four Winds offered both and was within walking distance of the inn they're staying at. The moment he sat down at the bar, his mind began to race through thoughts of their next course of action, namely on how they were going to get to Atlas. With the borders closed, getting there will not be easy.

If it was just him, he could simply fly there but he had nine teenagers (and Ozpin) to look after. While he still could fly and meet up with Ironwood, he didn't want to involve the General unless he had to. Jimmy may be hard-headed but he was loyal, but until very recently, Qrow had similar notions about Leonardo.

He doubts Salem could turn Ironwood but the same couldn't be said of all members of the Atlesian government. These thoughts and many more ran through his mind until a woman with blonde pigtails, golden eyes, (and a low-cut top) came up and placed a coaster in front of him, pulling him back to real world. She smiled at him and asked, "What can I get ya, dear?" Qrow smiled back.

Business can wait, now is the time for pleasure.

"Well, Carrie," he said, reading her name tag."Whiskey, on the rocks, if you please."

He was laying on the charm rather thick but she seemed to enjoy it.

"Alright," she said before looking past Qrow's shoulder.

"And for you, sir?"

Just then a man in a long, gray coat that had seen a fair amount of ware and repair take the seat next to Qrow, "Absinthe," he said, while placing a rucksack on the floor between Qrow and himself and then lean an assault rifle against the bar. "Neat."

Qrow knew only one man who drank Absinthe straight, and he if he hadn't been staring at him with his own eyes, he never would have believed it. Yet, here he was, alive and well after all these years and looking all the same.

"Grayson," Qrow said. "You haven't changed a bit."

"You never were one to comment on my appearance before, Qrow," Grayson said, lacing his fingers into a fist on the bar in front of him.

"I figured after all these years you would've at least change your sense of style."

Grayson assumed he was referring to his custom of slicking back his dark-brown hair and sporting a thick mustache with long sideburns that ran down to his chin and a small goatee.

Then again he may be referring to his style of dress with the aforementioned long coat, with a brown waistcoat, white-collared shirt with thin, vertical stripes, black and gray saddle trousers, a wide, leather belt, and a dark blue ascot.

For armaments, he wore leather vambraces with steel plating with a dull sheen and full gloves and knee-high leather boots with steel greaves that also lacked polish. Four, leather belts were sewn into the coat that wrapped around his abdomen that supported a leather holster for the 'potato masher' style of grenades that he favored.

Across his chest ran a leather, combat harness that held a long knife on his back, a holstered Dragoon Revolver under his left arm, and a combat Scroll on his right shoulder. The knife, the revolver, and the assault rifle were the only weapons that Qrow could see but suspected that he carried more, probably in the rolled up blanket on the side of his rucksack.

"You're one to talk," Grayson said as he reached into his coat and withdrew a tobacco pouch. "I imagine that's the same cloak from your academy days."

"It's probably older than I am," he added as he began adding tobacco to a billiard-style pipe. "I doubt there's much in this world older than you," Qrow shot back. Grayson struck a match then lit his pipe, "There are a few things, Qrow," he said as a cloud of smoke began to form around his head. "This you know all too well."

Their drinks came and they sat in silence for a few moments before Qrow spoke again, "So what brings you to Mistral," he asked, taking a generous swig of whiskey.

"Heard rumors about a team of Huntsmen moving east out of Patch," Grayson answered, taking a sip of absinthe equal to Qrow's. "They said that the leader used a scythe; the only person I know who can actually use one of those things is you."

Qrow finished his drink in a second gulp, then smiled. "Not me," he said, shaking his head.

"My niece: Ruby."

Grayson followed Qrow's example and finishes his drink in one swig.

"That's Summer's daughter, right?" Grayson asked as he ordered another round.

Qrow narrowed his eyes at the other man, "Is that the real reason you're here?" he asked before order another whiskey. "Not exactly," Grayson answered he placed his pipe back into his mouth, then reached into his coat; he withdrew a small, silver, tear-shaped vial and presented it to Qrow. He took it from Grayson and began to examine it; he had seen many before but only one this old.

He noted the ouroboros embossed on one side and the thin chain attached near the spout. He turned it over and found his suspicions to be correct. On the opposite side, located in the center, was a crest display ermine and three bendlets gules.

It was a crest both men knew well, "Aroda," Qrow said. "You found her."

"I did," Grayson said, taking another sip of absinthe when the next round arrived. "How?" Qrow asked, returning the vial. "One of my contacts in the Atlesian Military," Grayson answered, pocketing the item. "He was able to track the vial to a storage facility, along with the rest of her equipment. From there he was able to determine her location as Glassberg."

"Never heard of it," Qrow said, taking another sip.

"Neither had he," Grayson said, before inhaling on his pipe. "But with a little digging, we were able to determine that it lies somewhere near the old city of Mantle."

"What about her information?" Qrow asked. "Nothing that could be determined from belongings," he answered, clouds of smoke escaping his lips as he spoke. "If she had left a clue or a trail, then it's long gone."

"So the only way to find out what she knew..." Qrow began.

"...is to ask her ourselves," Grayson finished.

"Perhaps Ironwood could secure her release."

There was a brief pause in their conversation.

"I take it you've heard about Leonardo?" Qrow asked.

Grayson nodded solemnly, "Might have heard something about it on the way in."

"Then you should know that trust is a hard thing to come by, right now," Qrow said. "Even _you_ are not beyond suspicion.

"Of all the years you've known me, Qrow," Grayson began. "Have I ever been false with you?"

Qrow looked away and down at his drink, avoiding the older man's gaze.

Their relationship was a complicated one.

They had fought side by side as many times as they had against one another, yet there were few in this world that either man would trust more on the battlefield; but with Leonardo's betrayal, doubt had crept into Qrow's mind and now Grayson appears out of the blue with an answer to their problem.

It seemed too good to be true.

"So many good Huntsmen are gone because of Leonardo's betrayal," Qrow said as he tensed up. "I can only imagine the damage that would be inflicted if you were to betray us."

Had it truly come to this?

Was trust such a hard commodity to come by these days?

"If you can't do this, I understand," Grayson whispered, turning back to his own drink. "But I can't let this chance slip by." He said this more to himself than anyone else. Grayson then finished his drink before emptying his pipe in a nearby ashtray; he then stood up, tossed a Lien card on the bar that was more than enough to pay for the drinks, plus tip, before retrieving his rucksack and rifle.

'I'm doing this, even if I have to do it alone.'

"Goodbye, Qrow," Grayson said before he turned and began to leave. "May we meet on better circumstances."

"Wait," Qrow called after a moment's hesitation. Grayson stopped, then turned back to Qrow. Qrow downed his drink before tossing a Lien card on the counter, before making his way over to Grayson. "How certain are you of this information?" he asked. "Do you know for a fact that she's alive."

"If Aroda was dead," Grayson said. "I would know." Qrow nodded, it wasn't a matter of feeling; when came to Aroda, Grayson always had to be certain. "Alright," Qrow said. "But we can't involve Ironwood. At least not until we know for certain whom we can trust. Can we count on your contact?"

"His situation is becoming precarious," Grayson said as the two men left the bar. "But he may be able to give us some aid." As they stepped out into the night air, they could both feel a chill in the air; rain was on its way.

As the two men walked back to the inn, they soon became aware that they were being followed.

"One on the left," Grayson said.

"Another on the right," said Qrow.

A flash of lightning and a roll of thunder.

"Think we can lose them?" Grayson asked.

Before Qrow could answer, the pair entered a four-way cross-section, where they were stopped by three men blocking there way forward. Qrow and Grayson turned to their left and to their right, only to find those ways blocked too.

It was by that time, the men behind them had caught up and then they noticed the men on the rooftops.

They were surrounded.

"Friends of yours?" Qrow asked. "No," Grayson answered. "Yours?" Qrow narrowed his eyes and studied the belligerents. They were dressed plainly with no sense of uniformity and armed with knives, swords, and the occasional firearm. "Not mine," Qrow, shaking his head.

"They're mine," a deep voice said. Both men turned to the front and saw a man dress all in black stroll out from the group, cane in hand. He was middle-aged but in good, physical condition as well as fair looking with a thin mustache, a small goatee, and long, dark hair. He wore a patch over his left eye and had a scar across his cheek, yet these did not impede his good looks, in fact, only increasing his handsomeness.

"...And who might you be?" Qrow asked.

The man bowed politely before the pair, "I am Count Rouge Fort," he said introducing himself before straightening up.

"Now would you be so kind as to lay down your arms and surrender."

Qrow and Grayson were taken aback by this man's forwardness to ask them that.

"I would rather avoid unnecessary bloodshed; the choice, however, is yours, gentlemen. Now, what is your answer?"

Qrow and Grayson exchanged glances before, quite literally, jumping into action. Without a word being said between them, the two men got into position, with Qrow placing his foot into Grayson's already cupped hands before being launched into the air.

Rouge watched as Qrow sailed to the rooftops, "Impressive," he said honestly before turning back to Grayson.

His men had already converged on him but he was holding his own with the hand-and-a-half sword that was hidden beneath his coat.

Rouge watch the confrontation unfold around him: Grayson taking the low road, parrying and cutting, while Qrow took the high ground launching man after man into the air. "Its raining men," Rouge stated, finding some semblance of enjoyment even as his men were dispatched. One them stood up before him, dazed but relatively unharmed.

He smiled, "Hallelujah." Then Grayson cut the men down were he stood, causing Rouge to groan in sadness. Just then, one the assailants came up behind an unaware Grayson, long knife at the ready. 'Could this be it?' Rouge thought. Alas, no, as the thug was knocked into a nearby wall by two shotgun slugs.

Grayson and Rouge looked up and saw Qrow standing on the lower end of a roof pitch, aiming Harbinger's twin barrels. He gave Grayson a friendly nod that Grayson gladly returned before throwing his sword at Qrow. It sailed through the air, passed by Qrow, missing him by inches, and embedding itself in a man with a raised ax.

The man stumbled for a bit before falling to the ground, the sword still protruding from his chest. "Most impressive," Rouge said, a smile playing on his lips. He then placed his cane under his arm and began to clap, his dark leather gloves giving his applause a muffled sound to it.

Qrow jumped down from the building while Grayson retrieved his sword. Rouge continued his clapping even as the two men approached him with their weapons raised.

"Bravo, gentlemen," he said.

" _Bravo_."

Qrow and Grayson leveled their blades at Rouge, which caused him to cease his applause. "You're coming with us," Qrow stated.

Rouge smiled then shook his head.

"Alas, gentlemen, I cannot accept your invitation," he said with another polite bow.

"Fare thee well."

"What makes you think you-" Grayson started but stopped when he found that Fort had vanished without so much as a trace, along with all his surviving men. Both men looked about the intersection, searching in vain for a trace of their new enemy.

"Where did he go?" Qrow asked.

"...And how did he do it?" Grayson asked, placing his hand against his temple in an attempt to alleviate a headache that had suddenly appeared.

Finding the trail lost and dealing with his own head troubles, Qrow put Harbinger away before retrieving Grayson's belongings. He handed the rucksack and assault rifle back to the other man as he sheathed his sword.

"Thank you," Grayson said, taking back his belongings.

"Don't mention it," Qrow said.

Grayson shouldered the rucksack and the rifle while Qrow again took the lead towards the inn. Just as they were about to leave the intersection, Qrow paused and began surveying the area.

"What is it?" Grayson asked.

Qrow was silent for a moment, then spoke…

"Did you have to kill them?"

The rain started.

A/N: This is a bit of uncharted territory for me so I hope everyone likes it. Be sure to tell me what you think and leave a review.


	3. Ch 2 A Life Not Meant To Live

Ch. 2 A Life Not Meant to Live

 _ **Bring me my Bow of burning gold:**_

 _ **Bring me my arrows of desire:**_

 _ **Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!**_

 _ **Bring me my Chariot of fire!**_

 _ **I will not cease from Mental Fight,**_

 _ **Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand:**_

 _ **Till we have built Paradise**_

 _ **In this green & pleasant Land.**_

 _ **-William Blake**_

 _Never accept, always question._

 _We deserve better, you and I, together._

 _I believe you have reason for what you do._

 _Trust me, Grayson._

 _If I live to see tomorrow, I shall find you._

 _Do not fall prey to dark thoughts of retribution._

 _Malory's death will be avenged._

 _That way madness lies._

 _There is nothing we can do._

 _Do not allow your friend to have died in vain!_

 _There's still something I must do._

 _Death always follows in your path._

 _How many more must die to insure an eternal silence?_

 _Isi…_

 _My Father…_

 _Was it all a lie!?_

 _I loved them as my own blood._

 _Isabeau and the Council must never discover the truth lest all you hold dear perish._

 _Do not ask this of me._

 _There shall come a day when all our burdens_ _wi_ _ll end, brother._

 _Finish what you have begun and vanish._

 _Maybe then we shall know true peace._

 _ALISTAIR!_

Grayson awoke, gasping for air, sitting up in the chair he had fallen asleep in. Someone, probably one of the students, had been kind enough to drape a blanket over him as he slept. He leaned back and brought a hand up to rub his eye when he felt moisture against his palm.

Had he been crying?

He looked around the room to see if he had disturbed any of the room's other occupants; to his relief, they all slept peacefully. Jaune, Ren, and Nora had been generous enough to share their room with him. Despite Jaune offering him a bed, Grayson had opted for one of the armchairs, saying that it was certainly more comfortable than what he was used to. He looked around the room to see if he had disturbed any of the rooms other occupants; to his relief, they all slept peacefully.

It was in this quiet moment, that Grayson found himself studying his new companions: Nora and Ren seemed to be polar opposites, with her unbound enthusiasm and Ren's quiet demeanor, yet they were inseparable from one another, even now as they slept. Despite their affection for one another, when sharing the same bed, they kept their distance from one another, as if trying to maintain a level of professionalism. Still, one could not deny the look of contentment on either of their faces; perhaps being this close was enough for them.

Between the two beds, the Faunus, Sun, slept peacefully, despite his sleeping arrangements. Like Grayson, Sun had refused a bed, making the claim that the beds were too soft for him, but Grayson suspected that Sun wanted to give Jaune his space.

Jaune.

A young man who carries a heavy burden. When Ren, Nora, and Sun had fallen asleep and Grayson had begun to nod off, a light had appeared. Grayson opened his eyes to find that the light came from a Scroll; Jaune's Scroll. The boy lay on his side, his back to the other three students, watching a recording of a girl with fiery-red hair.

The volume was low but Grayson could still hear it: "Jaune... I... I... I want you to know that I am happy to be a part of your life. I'll always be here for you, Jaune." He stared at the girl for a long moment before turning off the Scroll, placing it on the nearby nightstand, then laying back down to sleep.

Grayson looked down at his other hand, even in darkness, the vial seemed to give off a dull sheen. He ran his thumb across the embossed ouroboros, following the serpent's path from head to tail.

He sighed, "Men where never meant to live this life."

He dried his eyes with his sleeve before casting aside the blanket. He then reached into his waistcoat pocket, withdrew his pocket watch and checked the time.

Finding dawn not too far off, he stood up and retrieved his rucksack and coat before heading out of the room.

::

Despite its makeshift nature, the hammock was quite comfortable and the swinging motion would lull even the most stubborn of people into blissful slumber; yet, sleep eluded Ruby on this night. She rolled on to her side, in an effort to get more comfortable, when her eyes fell on her sister. Yang slept but not peacefully; her face would occasionally grimace and her remaining hand would clench the sheets tightly, turning her knuckles white.

Ruby desperately wished to know what nightmares plagued her sister: was it the Fall of Beacon?

Adam Taurus?

Salem?

...Raven?

If only she knew, then maybe she could help. Her eyes drifted to the prosthetic arm lying on the nightstand between the two beds; an eternal reminder of the tragedy that befell them at the Academy. She stared at the arm for a moment, when a flash of movement caught her attention. She looked over just in time to see Blake roll over onto her other side, facing Ruby, with her arm hanging out of her hammock, reaching out to Yang. Even asleep, it was if Blake wished to give comfort to her friend. Ruby turned away from her teammates, a soft smile formed on her lips as she began to muse over the days earlier events...

::

"You wouldn't dare!" Weiss said, never breaking eye contact with her opponent.

"She would," Yang said.

"She dares," added Blake.

The three girls were in the midst of a great battle the likes of which none of them had ever experienced before.

"Crush her!" Nora said, fists clenched.

"Fight well," Ren nodded, arms crossed.

"They make it way more exciting than it should be," Sun said, leaning over to Jaune.

"Wait until they _really_ get into it," he said, causing Sun's eyes to widen.

"Weiss Schnee," Ruby said, leaning forward across the coffee-table, before standing up straight and pointing a finger directly at Weiss.

"Prepare for battle!"

At that moment, Ruby launched an all-out assault on Weiss's Atlas controlled walls.

"Your forces will never survive this onslaught."

The color drained from Weiss's face,

"My forces will be wiped out." She placed her face in her hands, "All is lost."

Suddenly, her head began to rise, the glint of her eyes could be seen from between her fingers. Her hands fell away and all were amazed to find her wearing a malicious smile.

"Except that you just activated my trap card," she said holding up her 'Guerrilla Fighters' card.

"Your forces are now surrounded."

Ruby's triumphant look quickly turned into one of worry.

"...And with this 'Dust Reserves' card, my army receives plus five offense and plus ten defense."

Ruby's mouth dropped and her eyes widened to saucers before turning downcast, as if watching her pieces literally go up in smoke.

Ruby slumped to the ground, "My forces are routed," she stated sadly.

"...And all of Vale is mine," Weiss said triumphantly.

"And soon, the rest of Remnant." Yang and Blake looked down at their respective kingdoms and their meager forces before looking at each other. Even if they were to join forces, it wouldn't be enough to overcome Weiss's mainly intact army.

"Terms," they both said in unison.

Weiss's smile broadened, "Unconditional and immediate surrender."

Both Yang and Blake looked at their opponent, aghast.

It was the ultimate insult, they could resist but it would only delay the inevitable; besides, it was just a game.

"Terms accepted," Blake said.

"Ditto," Yang agreed.

Weiss reveled in her victory, even as they began to put the board and pieces back into the box.

"So when did you become a master at _Remnant: the Game_?" Yang asked.

"What else was I suppose to do between home and public appearances?" Weiss asked with a shrug. "Plus General Ironwood gave me some pointers when he visited."

"Liar! Cheater! Traitor!" Ruby said, dramatically placing a foot on the table and pointing an indignant finger at Weiss.

"You can't bring in outside help."

"But didn't you buy this strategy guide along with the game," Blake asked, holding the book in question.

"Don't bring logic into this," Ruby said, turning to the young Faunus.

"Yeah, Blake," Yang said. "What's wrong with you?"

Blake shrugged, before thumbing through the strategy guide.

"You were right," Sun said, once again leaning over to Jaune.

"This is better."

"CRUSH HER!" Nora repeated louder.

Before their argument could progress further, the door opened, and Qrow entered the room, Harbinger at the ready, followed by Grayson, assault rifle in hand.

"Check upstairs," Qrow said, locking the door behind them.

Grayson nodded his response before making his way to the stairs, rifle at the ready.

Grayson ignored the stares of the eight curious teenagers while Qrow ignored such questions as "What's wrong?", "Who's this?", and "Want some pancakes?".

Instead, he went over to Ruby, "Has anyone tried to force their way in here?" he asked.

"No," she said, pondering as to what had happened to cause this level of concern. Normally Qrow was confident enough for any one of them to be capable of taking care of themselves, but Fort's sudden appearance (and disappearance) had greatly unnerved him.

"What about strange noises or shapes outside?"

"No!" Ruby said, rather forcefully. She wished he would tell them what was going on. After a few minutes, Grayson came back down the stairs, his posture more relaxed than when he entered the house but still tense, like one would during the lull of a battle.

"Upstairs is secured," Grayson said, rejoining the group. "No signs of forced entry."

"That's a relief," Qrow said breathing a sigh of relief. He then turned to the rest of the group, ready to answer any question, only to find them all giving him worried looks of varying degrees.

Suddenly he had an idea what they must look like; barging in, weapons drawn, searching the house for enemies.

"It's okay guys," he said, sheathing Harbinger. "Just a little on edge."

"What happened?" Yang asked.

"We were attacked," Qrow said, taking out his flask and taking a sip.

"Salem?" Ruby asked.

"Don't think so," Qrow said, shaking his head. "Haven't seen these guys before."

"What about him?" Jaune asked indicating to Grayson. "Who is he?"

"This is Grayson," Qrow said introducing his new companion.

"I'm an old friend of Qrow's," Grayson said, taking the flask from Qrow and taking a sip.

He grimaced before handing it back to him. "You need to get better liquor."

Qrow looked at his flask, "Yeah," he said. "A really _old_ friend." He then took another sip, before putting it away.

"So what's he doing here?" Yang asked.

"He wants us to help him break into an Atlesian prison that nobody knows the location to, bust out one of its most, if not the most, guarded prisoner and do it all without getting the Military involved," Qrow said, hooking his thumbs in his pockets.

All eyes turned to Grayson; he frowned and was silent. He looked away from the group for a moment before turning back.

"Not the way I would have put it," he said. "But yes that is what I am here for."

A prolonged silence fell over the students until it was shattered by a "Sounds like fun!" from a very enthused Nora.

"Who are we trying to break out and why?" Weiss asked. "They don't usually send good people to prison."

"Unless they were wrongly convicted!" Ruby said, a smile forming on her lips and a story taking shape in her mind.

A story of them storming iron gates and fighting their way through legions of evil guards to rescue an innocent man from torture and certain death.

"She wasn't convicted," Grayson said. "Wrongly or otherwise."

"And she certainly wasn't innocent, either," Qrow said, as he began to list off her crimes. "Treason, sedition, murder, destruction of public _and_ private property, assassination-"

" _Attempted_ assassination, _I'm_ the one who's wanted for assassination," Grayson stated matter-of-factly. "And would you have acted any different in our stead?"

Qrow smiled, "I would have done it better."

Grayson returned the smile, albeit briefly.

"So who exactly is this person you want to free and why?" Yang asked.

"Aroda."

The two men turned around while the former students looked past them at the young Oscar.

The events at Haven Academy had left Ozpin mentally and Oscar physically drained and had spent the past few days resting; in fact, this was the first time he had emerged from his room the entire day.

"That's who you're talking about, isn't it?"

Grayson stared at the boy for a moment, dumbfounded.

He then turned to Qrow, "Ozpin?"

Qrow nodded.

"So he did fall at Beacon," Grayson concluded, turning back to Oscar.

"And yes," he whispered.

"It is Aroda."

Suddenly, Oscar's hazel eyes turned to a shining gold and his posture straightened.

Ozpin had taken control.

He smiled, "Its good to see you again, Grayson."

"Likewise," Grayson nodded. Ozpin nodded back, happy to see his old friend. Another silence fell on the group. "I'll go start the cocoa," Ren said before heading to the kitchen.

"I'll help," Jaune said, quickly following after him.

"I take it you have proof," he said, moving to sit down at one of the armchairs. Grayson and Qrow took the couch next to him, with Grayson removing his rucksack, setting it on the floor, then leaning his rifle against it. The remainder of the students took up seats on the remaining couch and armchair while Blake and Sun opted to stand. Grayson once again drew the vial from his coat and handed it to Ozpin.

The Headmaster stared down at the relic, turning it over in his hands a few times. He had had his doubt, still did in fact, yet it is difficult to deny what is right in front of you.

"Have you seen her?" he asked.

"No," Grayson said, shaking his head. "But that doesn't mean-"

"I wasn't implying anything, Grayson," Ozpin interrupted. "But it has been some time since anyone has seen her."

Before Grayson could retort, Qrow spoke for him. "If she was dead," Qrow said. "He would know."

Grayson gave Qrow a nod of thanks, to which he returned.

Ozpin nodded before continuing. "...And the prison you spoke of?"

"Somewhere outside the old city of Mantle," Grayson answered. "But I may be able to narrow down the location."

Ozpin frowned, "Not exactly much to go by."

"We've made due with less," Qrow countered.

"Circumstances weren't as dire back then," Ozpin argued, handing the vial back to Grayson.

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," he said pocketing the trinket.

"And even if her information is worthless, we owe it to her to get her out," Qrow added. Ozpin pursed her lips for a moment, it was true that Aroda had done much to further their cause; leaving her to rot in an Atlesian Military Prison would be nothing short of betrayal.

Ozpin gave an uncharacteristic sigh. "Very well," he said. "Once we make contact with-"

"Hold it!" Yang said, surprising everyone with her interruption. "Before we agree to anything, you have to tell us _who_ Aroda is."

As Ozpin was about to answer, Grayson beat him to it. "Aroda and I belong to an organization with similar aims as Ozpin, our benefactor has long been an 'ally' of his." "Before she was captured," he continued. "Aroda had been searching for something, at the time we didn't know what it was but then she requested a meeting with Ozpin, myself, and our leader as soon as possible, saying..."

He stopped and pursed his lips for a moment. He looked around at the young ones here and wondered if they would believe him. By this point, Ren and Jaune had returned from the kitchen with a tray with a pot of hot cocoa and a few mugs.

"Saying that she had found a way to defeat Salem, once and for all."

He heard a few gasps of surprises and saw a few wide eyes, as well a few skeptical looks from among those assembled.

"What exactly this method was, she would not discuss through correspondence, fearing that one of the messages could be intercepted by our enemies, but before she could tell us, she was captured," he said. "No doubt the authorities were informed of her location by one of Salem's spies." After he finished, the room became deathly quiet, with all eyes focused on Grayson.

"...And there you have it," Ozpin said, breaking the silence while he poured himself a mug of cocoa. "If we rescue Aroda, then we will have learned a weakness to our enemy; a way to finally end this war..."

'An end to this war,' she thought, coming back to the present.

Could it really be true?

Could this 'Aroda' truly hold the secret to Salem's demise; she shuddered at the memory of Emerald's illusion of their enemy.

Even if it was true, would it be enough to defeat a being like that and if it was, would all of them be able to walk away from it alive?

All these thoughts and more raced through her mind until she caught a smell wafting through the air, a very familiar smell. Pulling herself out of the hammock, doing her best not to (once again) step on the sleeping Schnee beneath her as she lowered herself onto the floor.

She moved towards the door, stopping for a moment to take another look at her friends: Weiss curled up on her side beneath Ruby's vacant hammock, Blake reaching for Yang from her own hammock, and Yang, now sleeping with a look of contentment on her face. Ruby smiled before heading out the door, happy to have her team back.

::

"...Speaking through a representative today," the news anchor, Cyril Ian, said. "The Lord Chancellor of Atlas reiterated his stance on the closing of the kingdom's borders..."

The thumbnail at the bottom then blew up to fill the screen: "'...Our duty is to the safety of our people,'" the representative read. "'We must take _every_ precaution to ensure this."

The speaker had the look of a valet rather than a government representative, with his black tuxedo and white gloves.

"'I sympathize with those with friends and family outside our borders, I myself being among them,'" he continued. "'But sacrifices must be made, lest all, we hold sacred be undone'."

 _...Lest all you hold dear perish._

Those words echoed in his ears as he finished cleaning the barrel of his pistol. At the time, he didn't know what the full extent of his sacrifice would be if he had…

He paused, looking down at the rucksack at his feet, then at the array of weapons laid out before him on the coffee table.

All that was before was all he owned in this world.

He sighed, streams of smoke billowed forth from his nostrils as he did, and went back to the task at hand, knowing that if circumstances presented itself in a similar manner as before, he would do exactly as he had done in the past.

As Malory wished.

He reassembled his pistol, finishing with inserting an empty magazine so as to do a few dry fire tests. He leveled the gun, checked the sights alignment, then squeezed the trigger. A satisfying click was heard.

He then held the firearm up to his ear and squeezed the trigger once more; another pleasing click. Pleased with his work, he ejected the empty magazine and loaded a fresh one, when he sensed a presence behind him…

Tensing up as reflexes kicked in, he turned sharply to see who was behind him, unintentionally scaring the young Huntress, Ruby Rose, who let out a small "eep" in surprise.

Relaxing at the sight of the young girl, Grayson turned back to his work.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

"Just having trouble sleeping," she said, regaining her composure.

"Then there was the smell…"

Grayson looked down at the pipe clenched in his teeth, smoke emanating from its bowl.

"Sorry," he whispered, before hastily emptying his pipe into his personal ashtray.

"Oh, I didn't mean that smell!" Ruby said hastily, feeling a little guilty about making him waste his tobacco.

When he gave her a quizzical look, she pointed down at the table, to his bottle of oil that he uses to lubricate his guns.

"You use the same oil I use for Crescent Rose," she said, sitting down on the couch beside him, hands in her lap.

Grayson nodded as he set the pistol down and an uncomfortable silence fell on the pair.

"C-78 Autoloading Pistol," she said, breaking the silence by identifying the weapon.

Grayson gave her surprised look; while the C-78 was easily recognizable by the bulbous housing that contained the coiled, flat mainspring assembly that operated the toggle-bolt mechanism, it was a very rare and a very old gun with very few surviving into the modern era.

"Replica?" Ruby asked.

Grayson shook his head as he began cleaning the chamber to one of his revolvers, "Authentic."

Ruby's hands flew to her mouth with a gasp and she did her best to suppress the squeal that threatened to burst through her lips. Her silver eyes darted back and forth between the gun and the man sitting next to her before finally landing on Grayson.

"Can I..." she asked, eyes gleaming.

Grayson silently answered by sliding the pistol towards her.

She gleefully picked it up and leveled it in front of her, feeling like one of those _femme fatales_ from those old spy movies her dad use to watch.

"My name is Rose," she said, holding the pistol up as if posing for a camera.

"Ruby Rose."

She heard Grayson chuckle beside her, bringing a genuine smile to her face.

She set the gun down and hefted the assault rifle that he had been carrying earlier in the day (and the one that she had been eyeing earlier). "M2 Falchion Auto-Rifle," she identified, running her hand over the decorative engravings on the receiver to the dark, wooden stock with thumbhole.

"Real, too?" She asked.

She released another excited gasp when he nodded; the Falchion was even rarer than the C-78 despite coming out around the same time but this was due to the Falchion's small production quantity, instead of its age.

She leveled as she did before with the pistol, checking the sights, feeling the balance; she knew this was a product of an expert craftsman.

Her finger ran across the Falchion's twin triggers and was reminded of what she heard about the rifle's secondary function.

"Is it true that-," she was interrupted when her finger placed a little too much pressure on the forward trigger and a blast of pressurized gas burst forth from the lower barrel of the rifle, knocking over one of the end-tables.

"...The Falchion's secondary function is an expulsion of a large volume of pressurized gas?" Grayson asked, finishing her question.

"Yes."

"Sorry," she said, smiling sheepishly before placing the Falchion back on the table then going over to return the table back to its original position and hoped that no one had been awoken by the commotion.

As she moved back to the couch, she spied the long knife he carried on his back.

She reached down and picked up the blade, still in its black, leather-clad scabbard. The hilt was set in carved ivory with a crest of argent with cross gules at the center, flanked by two dragon motifs and a dragon-headed pommel.

She unsheathed the blade and was surprised by its qualities: an ouroboros was embossed in gold, flanked by two orbs lay just beneath the hilt.

The blade widened at the curve and both edges had been sharpened to a razor's edge, leading Ruby to believe that this knife could cut through flesh easily. The most impressive aspect of the blade was not the perfect balance nor the fact that it appeared to be the oldest weapon in Grayson's arsenal, but the inscription on the flat of the blade:

"'Libera animas Fidelium Defunctorum de poenis Inferni et de profundo lacu. Libera eas de ore Leonis ne absorbeat eas Tartarus ne cadant in obscurium. Hoc ferro, Transeat de morte ad vitam, Sanguis eius Sacrificabimus Humanam Salutem animas venire'."

She read the words aloud, hoping that the words would make sense if she heard them with her own ears but it was too little avail.

Then, she heard Grayson speak,

"'Release the souls of the faithful departed from the pains of the bottomless pit. Free them from the mouth of the lion, lest hell swallow them up, lest they fall into darkness. This, in iron, and pass over from death to life, the blood of the souls of his sacrifice to the salvation of the human souls to come'."

He was beginning to assemble his shotgun ('RA-5 Repeating Shotgun' Ruby mentally noted) as he finished saying these words.

"Not a perfect translation," he continued. "But I've yet to meet anyone who can do better."

"What is it?" Ruby asked, sheathing the blade. "The King's Speech," Grayson answered. "From the time of the Ancients." "From the Old Tales," Ruby added, to which Grayson nodded in agreement.

The stories of knights in shining armor and kings with golden crowns righting wrongs and bringing justice to the world; she loved those stories growing up and still remembers them fondly.

Grayson placed the shotgun back on the table and then picked up a bolt-action sniper rifle with an elongated, telescopic sight and sound suppressor.

"M84 Marksman Carbine," Ruby identified. "Still trustworthy I see."

"Without a doubt," Grayson said, racking the bolt several times. All Grayson's weapons where museum-worthy antiques that all appeared to be combat ready, even the rarest of his guns: the revolver he was carrying.

She reached down for a better look, when a calloused hand quickly covered it, causing her to jump back in surprise, hands clasped together in front of her face.

She looked over at Grayson, a stern look in his eyes that quickly softened when he realized the distress he had caused her.

He sighed softly and said, "Best to leave that one be."

He then turned his attention back to his Carbine, another uncomfortable silence falling on them once again.

"M4 Dragoon Revolver," Ruby said, breaking the prolonged silence. "Only about a hundred where made."

She then retook her place on the couch beside him. "How did you get one?" She asked, her curiosity piquing.

"It belonged to my mentor," Grayson answered somberly.

"It passed to me when he died."

 _...Maybe then we shall know true peace._

He closed his eyes and sighed heavily, his name barely a whisper on his lips:

 _...Alistair..._

"Mr. Grayson?" He opened his eyes when he heard her call his name. She had a worried look in her eyes and her hand was on his shoulder in an effort to comfort him. He sighed again but without taking his eyes of hers. "Its alright, Ruby," he said. "I'm alright now." She nodded and removed her hand from his shoulder, even though she didn't believe that he was alright.

"...And its Grayson," he added somberly. " _Just_ Grayson." She nodded her acknowledgment and all was quiet again.

Wanting to avoid another prolonged silence, Grayson turned to Ruby and asked, "Are there any others you're curious about?"

She scanned over the table when she found what appeared to be an asortment of random parts.

"What is that?" she asked, pointing to the pile.

"You don't know?" Grayson asked.

Ruby shook her in response.

Without saying a word, Grayson set the Carbine back on the table, stood up, and walked over to the pile and began putting them together; he kept his back, wanting it to be a surprise.

After taking the few minutes to assemble the weapon, he loaded the cylindrical magazine, then turned back to his young companion on the couch. Just as he was about to explain that it was a Repeating Compound Arbalest designed by the Mantle Military Academy when he found Ruby curled up on the couch, fast asleep. His eyes widened for a moment in surprise at how quickly she fell asleep before a soft smile played on his lips.

He placed the assembled crossbow back on the table before walking out of the room. He returned later with the blanket he had discarded earlier in hand. He then draped the blanket over Ruby's sleeping form, before wrapping it tightly around her. He then lowered himself into one of the nearby armchairs, then sat there in quiet contemplation.

'A strong will and good heart,' he thought. 'She is Summer's daughter.' She slept so peacefully that he was almost envious; shaking his head to rid himself of those thoughts, he stood up and retrieved his pipe from the ashtray and a small notebook from his rucksack.

Placing the pipe in his mouth but not lighting it, he opened the book to the blank page he had left the small pencil he uses. Checking to see if the young girl was still asleep, he begins.

A/N: I was hoping to get this out in time for RWBY Volume 6. Fortunately, I was able to blitz through the last half. So enjoy and be sure to leave a review.


	4. Ch 3 Between Salavation and Damnation

Ch. 3 Between Salvation and Damnation

 _ **Midway upon the journey of our life**_

 _ **I found myself within a forest dark,**_

 _ **For the straightforward pathway had been lost.**_

 _ **-Dante Alighieri**_

She takes a step.

 _We're not family anymore._

Fatigue grips her, pain courses through her; she takes a step.

 _Which is it, mom? Are you merciful…_

A cold shiver runs through her, she grips herself tighter; she takes a step.

 _..._ _O_ _r are you a survivor?_

She continues down her path, never questioning if she was even headed in the right direction.

 _I don't know you. I only know the Raven dad told me about._

Off in the distance, a Beowolf's howl could be heard but she was too lost in her thoughts to hear it.

 _You don't know the first thing about strength!_

She falters and falls to her knees, past the point of exhaustion.

 _You might be powerful, but that doesn't make you strong._

"I'm sorry," she whispers as she gripped herself as tight as tight as possible; the apology had sounded as meaningless as it did the last time she said it. As she struggled back to her feet, she hears the Beowolf's howl this time, only it was closer, much closer.

'They found my trail,' she thought.

She wasn't surprised, she had wandered around this island for days now, feelings of self-loathing radiating off of her ever since leaving Mistral. She ignored these signs of danger and continued onward. As she walked on, she began to wonder if she would even make it to her destination or if she would be cut down by the beasts. She flashed a grim smile at this thought; it would be ironic, almost humorous, to live through so much only to die by some random Grimm. 'At least some good would come of it,' she thought as she moves forward, still wearing that bleak smile.

::

On the island of Patch, a man tends to his sunflowers. He had always found gardening to be relaxing, peaceful; always coming to his flowerbed whenever he felt anxious or distraught. It seemed, however, that he was spending too much time out here; he had watered and fertilized them but now he was beginning to suspect that he had given them too much fertilizer. He ran his hand between the stems, smoothing down the damp soil and now, he began to fear that he had added too much moisture. He looked up into the sky, noting the various clouds inching their way across the blue field. At first, he searched the skies for the slightest signs of rain, but soon found himself looking for a bird.

A raven.

 _His_ Raven.

He looked down at his closed fist, a black feather protruding from one end. 'Five days,' he thought to himself. 'Its been five days, how much longer are you going to deny the truth?' He sighed, 'She's not coming back. If she was going to show herself, she would have done it by now.' He opened his hand and let the feather drift to the ground before the wind picked up.

He watched the feather sail through the air before the wind carried it out of sight. "Goodbye, Raven," he whispered. He then turned back to his garden, trying to push her out of his mind. Then, as if Fate was mocking him, he heard the footsteps behind him and without even looking, knew it was her. She stopped a ways from him but he did not move to greet her.

"Tai…" she called softly. Her voice sounded hoarse and the tone was uncertain.

"… Raven," he said, still facing away from her, as an uncomfortable silence fell on the pair. Tai knew she was hurting, he always knew when she was, no matter how she might try to deny it. In his mind's eye, he pictured her behind him, sullen, her head held low and her hand gripping her forearm the way she always did when she was distressed and yet, he still did nothing. He felt bitterness and resentment towards her for the years of pain and heartache that she had put him and their family through. He scowled, "What are you doing here?" he asked, finally breaking that horrid silence.

There was a pause before she spoke, "I need to ask you something."

Anger flared within him and he stood, "Ask me something!?" He turned to her, eyes aflame and teeth bared. After all these years, _that_ is what she came here for? "Ask me-" As soon as he laid eyes on her, all the anger and rage disappeared in an instant.

She had had no peace these past few days, neither from herself nor from the Creatures of Grimm. Her clothing was dirty and torn in several places, patterns matching claws and teeth from various Grimm. Between the torn fabric he could see her bare skin from a few close calls and severe lacerations from ones too close. She held her arm the way he imagined she would, only it was her left hand gripping her right arm and it was due to the most serious of her wounds. Her arm had been mauled, badly, the plates of her vambraces were either bent inward, hanging loosely, or missing altogether. He watched through open tears as streams of blood poured from open wounds down her arm, to her fingertips before falling to the ground in a steady stream of droplets.

Her complexion was paler than usual, no doubt due to the blood loss and there were bags under her eyes from lack of sleep. Her eyes, which had held such fire and passion in the past, had dwindled to mere embers. "Tai…" she said again, taking a step towards him. At that moment, however, her body had finally reached its limit and could do no more. She collapsed to the ground, too numb to even register the pain of the impact. Her vision faded in and out, her mind a jumbled mess; she was fading fast. She felt herself being lifted off the ground and found herself looking up at Tai, a look of great concern on his face. When he called to her, his voice sounded so far away. "Tai…" she said, reaching up and touching his cheek. There was a pause as she looked into those blue eyes, filled with so much worry. "…Am I lost?" As she slipped away into oblivion, she dragged her hand down his cheek, leaving a streak of blood running down from his eye to his chin. Just before she lost consciousness, however, one coherent thought did enter her mind:

Yang.

::

The first time she regained consciousness was for a few brief moments: she was able to register that she was on a hard surface that was raised from the ground, such as a table. The smell of antiseptics was heavy and the sound she registered was the frantic beating of her own heart. The world was dark and hazy, with the only source of light coming from just above her. She felt something pulling on her arm and when she looked over, she saw the outline of a man holding her arm in a strange fashion. "Tai," she whispered, recognizing him by his touch. If he had heard her, he gave no indication that he had, instead still focusing on the task at hand. After cutting away the last thread of cloth from her vambrace, he gingerly pulled the garment apart to survey the damage. "Oh my God…" he whispered, shocked beyond words. It was worse than he'd feared…

He took some fresh linen and bandaged it as best as he could but this was far beyond his skill. He leaned forward, with his arms supporting him and his head held low in anguish; he was at lost of what to do. He shook his head before rising and that is when he noticed that she was awake, her scarlet eyes holding very little life. How much of that did she see? "Hey," he said, forcing a smile. He reached over and cupped her cheek, "It'll be okay," he said, as he caressed her with his thumb. "You'll be okay." He wasn't sure who he was trying to reassure, her or himself. His efforts were successful, however, as she found comfort in, not his words, but the warmth of his touch and the sound of concern in his voice. 'Am I dreaming again?' she asked herself in a brief moment of clarity just before she began to slip away. He called to her again, begged her to stay with him and to his surprise, he could see her struggle to stay conscious. Her eyes even regained some of their original luster for a moment but her fight was short-lived…

Yang.

::

…She's in here…" she heard a muffled voice say. She opened her eyes; her vision was better but had not returned fully. The darkness was gone, but she still found it impossible to focus on anything. She was in a different room now and no longer on a hard table but in a soft bed; she felt warm for the first time in days. The door leading out of the room opened and two men entered: Tai and a hooded figure in a long coat whose face she was unable to see. Tai led the figure to her side, "I did all I could for her but I don't think it was enough," he said.

The pair stood over her and she was able to make out a few of the stranger's features: he had a thick stubble and a weathered appearance, like one who had become accustomed to traveling. The shawl he wore around his head seemed, like his other clothing, ancient and worn yet serviceable; the expression he wore was stoic and impassive. "Can you help her?" Tai asked, his voice dripping with concern. The figure looked at her for a moment; it was as if he was determining her condition by sight alone. "I shall do what I can," he said as he stretched out his hand and stroked her cheek with the back of his knuckles. "But it is not my help that she truly needs…

Yang.

::

"…Three days!" she heard Tai argue as she awoke for the third time. The voices no longer sounded far away and her vision had returned but she was unable to move. She watched as Tai chased after the stranger as he began to leave the room. "Its only been three days! You cannot leave her like this!" "I have done all I can for her," the stranger said as he turned to Tai with a raised hand to placate him. "And there are other matters I must attend to." He turned back to leave but just before walking out the door, he turned back to Tai. "Help her, Taiyang," he said. "For I believe you are the only one who can." Then he was gone. She watched as Tai's shoulders slumped in despair before returning to a dreamless sleep.

Yang.

::

"'…He looked at her, and being a man whom pity deeply stirred, it seemed to him that her loveliness amid her grief would pierce his heart. And she looked at him and saw the grave tenderness in his eyes, and yet knew, for she was bred among men of war, that here was one whom no Rider of the Mark would outmatch in battle…'"

These were the first words she heard as she awoke from her long slumber. The sun had begun to set when her eyes fluttered open and beheld the world for the first time in days: she had been placed in the spare room with its muted color and simple bedding. There were a few additions, however: the pitcher and glass of water on the bedside table along with a used coffee pot and mug, an assortment of bottles of various shapes, sized, and color, and a small stack of books. Beside the bed, Tai sat in a chair that he had brought in from another room and was reading aloud from the book he held.

His appearance was haggard, with a noticeable stubble and heavy bags under his eyes, indicating that he had had many sleepless nights as of late. Most noticeably, though, he still had the streak of blood from when she had last touched his cheek.

"'…but though her words were still proud, her heart faltered, and for the first time, she doubted herself. She guessed that this tall man, both stern and gentle, might think her merely wayward, like a child that has not the firmness of mind to go on with a dull task to the end…'"

::

When Raven was at Beacon, she came down with a terrible cold. Having dealt with his sister in similar situations, as well as wanting revenge for Tai's earlier prank, Qrow had suggested that Tai be the one to look after her. Tai, being the kind, good-natured (and gullible) young man that he was, readily agreed. The first few days were difficult, to say the least; Raven did not like to show weakness of any kind to anyone, especially Tai, who gave her 'strange' feelings. She refused all manner of comfort, saying that she was more than capable of taking care of herself. Tai ignored this, and cared for her, albeit in a way one would care for a wounded animal: with patience, tenderness, and caution. As well as enough distance to render them incapable of assault.

So every day for a week, Tai brought food, medicine, and books. The first two, she took, although reluctantly; the books, however, he refused to give to her, fearing that it would be one more item to add to the plethora of objects that she had already thrown at him. He would start when she began to pick at her food and would continue on, even after she would lay down and turn away from him. At first, he was undaunted, doing his best to show her that she did not have to be alone and that he actually cared for her. Then one day, his patience finally ran out:

He had almost reached the end of the story when he had noticed that her back was to him once more. Instead of continuing on as he had in the past, he sighed loudly in exasperation and closed the book with a snap. 'Fine,' he thought bitterly. 'I know when to call it quits.' He stood and was about to make his way to the door when he felt her grab his wrist. 'What?' he thought. 'One last jab or insult?' He turned to her with narrowed eyes that upon meeting hers quickly widened in surprise. She had a look of vulnerability in her eyes that he had never seen before.

"Please," she said. "Don't go." He stared down at her for a moment, before a soft smile formed on his lips. "Okay," he whispered softly as he sat back down, moving in just a little closer. He reopened the book and continued from where he had left off; with the wolf running through the forest with the sheep-dog at his side…

From that day on, Raven never turned away from Tai when he read to her, even beginning to look forward to it at times. As she recovered, they feared that they would abandon this pastime of theirs, that they would move on and everything would go back to the way it was. Then one day, as she came into the dorm late one night, she found him sitting on his bed with his back against the headboard, a book in his hand. She stopped for a moment, unsure of what to do at first but quickly reached a decision. She sat down beside him, then laid her head in his lap; without a word of acknowledgment, he then began to read aloud to her as he ran his free hand through her hair.

::

She felt like she was back there now, in happier times, and just as before, she would be content to listen to Tai's story if only for a little while longer:

"'…She did not answer, but as he looked at her it seemed to him that something in her softened, as though a bitter frost were yielding at the first faint presage of Spring. A tear sprang in her eye and fell down her cheek, like a glistening rain-drop. Her proud head drooped a little. Then quietly, more as if speaking to herself than to him-'".

It was at this moment that he realized she was awake. Sapphire met crimson as their eyes locked on to one another as time seem to slow. Gingerly, he closed the book and knelt at her side, his eyes never leaving hers. "Raven?" he breathed. "Tai." Her voice was barely audible but he was grateful to hear it none the less. "How are you feeling?" he asked. She tried to sit up to speak to him more properly but every muscle in her body screamed in protest, causing her to fall back onto the bed, gritting her teeth in pain. Tai gathered her into his arms and pulled her into his lap; he then took one of the smaller bottles off the table and held it under her nose.

The odor emanating from the vial was foul but trusting Tai, she opened her mouth and received the concoction. The liquid burned as it made its way down her throat but whatever it was, it caused her pain to recede and she began to feel at ease again. Tai breathed a sigh of relief as Raven relaxed in his arms, grateful to the Nomad and his medicine. "Better?" he asked. She nodded weakly before opening her mouth to speak. "Water," again she could barely be heard. Tai reached behind him, placed the bottle down on the table, then picked up the glass of water. He brought the glass to her lips and as before, she opened her mouth to drink, only much more willingly this time; her throat still burned from the medicine and the cool liquid eased the inflammation.

After having her fill, her head dropped to her chest, eyes closed in exhaustion. When her eyes opened, she gasped in surprise; her right arm had been bandaged, heavily, and set in a sling that was secured firmly against her chest, rendering it immovable. Her left arm was also bandaged but not as heavily, with the extent beginning at her elbow and ending just below the first joints of her fingers.

What was truly surprising to her, though, was the clothing she was wearing: her normal attire had been replaced with a white gown of flannel with a shallow v-neck collar and floral embroidery of the same color. Although it fit her frame just fine, the sleeves went midway down her forearm and the hem barely covered her knees. Raven raised her head and looked up at Tai; the way he avoided her gaze and the tight frown on his lips told her all she needed to know: this gown belonged to Summer. "It was all I had," Tai whispered. None of the girl's clothing would have been able to fit her, nor did he think it proper to dress her in any of his daughter's clothing.

After Summer died, Tai had put up all of her belongings, except that gown; he knew it was frivolous to keep something like that but every time he tried to put it away, he just didn't have the heart to do it. To him, it would feel as if he was denying her existence. Even though he could look at his past objectively and with maturity, he couldn't always let go of it, which is why he still carries something of Raven's as well. Raven reached up and touched Tai's cheek, causing him to look at her; she had a look of great sadness and her eyes held a deep sense of regret. She didn't need to say it, her actions told him everything: she missed her too. He pulled her into a tight embrace, mindful of her injuries, while she wrapped her good arm around his neck.

Summer's loss had never really left Tai and Raven had never allowed herself to properly mourn her friend and so, here, at this moment, they drew comfort from one another. They stayed like that for a long while, neither one of them wanting to be the first to let go. Finally, Tai knew they had to begin, he relaxed his grip, so as to look down at her. "Raven," he said as his face suddenly became serious. "We need to talk." Raven turned away from his gaze, part of her had been dreading this. Tai gently gripped her chin and turned her to face him once again. "Raven," he said again. "Tai," she breathed. "I'm so sorry."

She told him everything. She spared no detail as she relayed to him the events that lead her back here. She watched as his face filled with subtle pride when she told him how Yang was able to find her, then turned to disappointment when she told him that she had refused to help at first. His face then turned from mild disgust when she told him of her alliance with Cinder Fall to surprise and shock when she informed him of Leonardo's treason. She told him about the battle at Haven; Qrow's disowning her, the Vault, Cinder's betrayal, Vernal's death, and finally the Spring Maiden. This was the most surprising revelation of all to Tai but did not press her for he could tell that there was more she had to say. She told him that after defeating Cinder, she went to retrieve the Relic of Knowledge when she was interrupted by Yang's arrival. Just by seeing the Vault open, Yang had been able to deduce the Spring Maiden's true identity.

Raven stopped there, afraid to continue; she turned her eyes downcast, away from Tai, blinking back tears and trying to choke back the sob that threatened to escape her lips. "Raven?" Tai asked as he moved in closer so she was unable to avoid his gaze. He knew this was tearing her up inside but if there was any hope of repairing their relationship, she had to continue. "What did Yang do?"

"She told the truth!" she cried. Everything came pouring out all at once. Every word. Raven trying to justify her murder of the previous Spring Maiden, Yang calling her out on her cowardice and hypocrisy, and finally allowing Yang to take the Relic in order to save herself. When Raven had finished, she held onto Tai as tightly as possible, pressing her ear against his chest, the steady beat of his heart soothing her. He held her but absentmindedly, her revelation had sent him into shock. How? How could she do that? Again?

Then, upon regaining his senses, his arm came up to hers and carefully removed it from his neck. "Tai?" she asked, her voice dripping with worry. He didn't say a word as he gently pulled her from his lap and placed her back on to the bed. "Tai," she begged. He was still silent as he pulled his hand from her back and released her wrist. As he turned to leave, she desperately reached for him, "Please." That word caused him to pause midway to the door, his hand clenched into a fist that soon began to shake at his side. He stood in the middle of the room for what seemed like ages to them and Raven hoped he would stay. It was not to be. He continued out the door without a second glance, turned the corner and was gone.

Raven couldn't breathe. Her lungs had ceased to function; a great pain surged from her chest. She rolled onto her side, facing away from the doorway, her hand gripping her bandaged arm but it brought no comfort this time. The pain; the pain was like nothing she had ever experience before. She curled into a fetal position and gasped for air, her body refusing to save itself; until, finally, a great cry erupted from her lips and tears burst from her eyes. _Did you kill her too?_ She finally had an answer to her daughter's question: "…Yes…" she whispered. She wept; she wept because of what a wretched thing she had become, she was truly and utterly lost.

::

He could here her cries from outside and from across the yard. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to go back into that room, afraid of what would happen. The last vestiges of the day were beginning to fade and night would soon be upon the island when Tai found himself sitting beneath a nearby tree, his back against the trunk and his arms resting on his arched knees, the wind occasionally blowing through his straw-colored hair. He stared off into the dark, forest before him, wrestling with indecision. What would he do if he went back to her? Would he hold her? Would he lie and tell her everything was going to be okay? Or would he cast her out? Expel her from his home and leave her to whatever fate would befall her? 'Go back. Now," he told himself. 'She needs you, now more than ever.'

'Where was she when _I_ needed her? When Yang needed her?' said the thought that crept into his mind. 'She abandoned her; her own daughter for a second time.' She was scared. That's no excuse. She's hurt. She'll heal. Will she? The wind picked up again and to his surprise, a black feather drifted down from the sky and landed at his feet; he stared at it, in shock. A stray tear formed in the corner of his eye and began to roll down his cheek but he quickly brushed it aside. He was surprised. He didn't think he had any tears left to shed for her. Suddenly, the wind picked up again, threatening to take the feather with it once again.

Just as it became airborne once again, Tai snatched the feather out of the air after a moment's hesitation. He looked down at the object between his thumb and forefinger, spinning it a few times. _Am I lost_ _?_ That is what she asked but that is not what she meant. He sighed heavily as he placed his wrists back onto his knees. He looked at the window to the, now quiet, spare room then back to the feather. So many questions, so little answers. He sighed and stood, the feather clenched in his fist once more; it was time to get some answers.

::

The sun's rays had faded and the stars were shining on this moonless night, and, yet, she continued to weep. Her sobs had subsided but her tears still continued to flow. She gritted her teeth and clutched at the sheets as another wave of pain assaulted her, reinvigorating the already flowing tears. It's a terrible feeling to lose someone you've known most of your life, it's much more terrible to know it's your own fault. He had loved her, she had loved him, and now she felt that any hope of salvaging that relationship had been broken beyond repair.

It was a hell of her own making.

So lost in her pain, that she did not hear the returning footsteps nor the sound of water splashing. She gasped softly in surprise when she felt herself being lifted off the bed and placed back into Tai's gentle embrace. They stared at each other for a moment, taking in the other's appearance: he, with a serious look and a tight frown and she, with fully red eyes and an uncharacteristically quivering lip. Before she could say a word, he gently pressed a wet washcloth to her cheek and began to wash away her tears. His touch was so gentle, so attentive; she wished she could smile but that look of his quelled any hope of this being painless. "Raven," he said. "When you first came here, you asked me if you were lost, but I don't believe that's what you meant." "What you meant is 'can I be saved?'," he continued. "Saved from what?" Raven turned from his gaze for a moment before reconnecting. "Do you remember our second autumn at Beacon," she asked as she gripped her arm tighter, making Tai fear for her sutures. "After the battle with the Manticore?" He nodded; of course, he remembered, how could he forget such a close brush with death? "You told me loved me." He had; in a state of delirium, he had revealed to her, along with his entire team and a few 'outside consultants', his true feelings. Later, when he was coherent, she told him what had happened; at first, he was embarrassed but then she called him a fool, smiled, then told him that she felt the same way about him.

"The Raven you fell in love with," she continued. "The Raven you told Yang about; is there a way for me to go back to that? Can the old Raven be saved?" _Save me from what I've become._ Tai pursed his lips and sighed, "I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "What you did to us, to our family, I don't know if I can ever forgive you." Fresh tears replaced dried ones, but Tai swiftly wiped them away. "But I'm willing to give you that chance. Prove to me that you want to be a part of this family, then you can prove it to our daughter." For the first time in years, hope swelled in her heart and tears of joy replaced tears of sorrow. Raven reached up and gripped Tai's wrist as a sign of her intentions.

"No Raven," he said, pulling his hand free. "No gestures, no interpretations, no _hiding._ I need to hear it from your own lips, do you want to be a part of this family?" Mustering what strength she had, as well as gritting through her pain, she pushed herself off the bed into sitting position and gave Tai a serious look that would have mirrored his own if it had not shifted to one of surprise.

"Yes."

::

The Beowolf clawed its way out of the forest and into the clearing. It had craved her flesh from the moment it tasted it and now had finally found her. It crouched in a low position, ready to charge on the house when suddenly a high pitched wail cut through the air, followed by a sharp pain piercing it's back. It fell to the ground, another arrow to add the already large quantity protruding from its body. A cloaked figured walked of the darkness of the forest, bow in hand. He approached the Beowulf from behind, drawing a long knife from behind his back as he did.

He knelt beside the creature, placed the blade against its throat and pulled. The fine blade sliced open its throat, spilling it's black, essence on the ground. Even it's death throes, it still clawed towards the house, the taste of her flesh its only concern. The cloaked figure then drove his blade into the Beowolf's side, finally ending its wretched existence. He then stood to his full height before removing the black bile from his knife by wiping it on his bracer. "That makes fifteen for the day," he said before turning to the house. He then pointed the now 'cleaned' blade to the top-floor window with the only light shining in it. "I just hope you're worth all this trouble." He then turned and sheathed his blade before turning and walking back into the forest, knowing that there were still Grimm left to kill.

A/N: Story excerpts belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and the Tolkien Estate.


End file.
